


from here on

by windwaves



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: IDOLiSH7 Part 4 Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windwaves/pseuds/windwaves
Summary: eight languages, and nagi struggles to find the right word for natsume minami.
Relationships: Natsume Minami & Rokuya Nagi, Natsume Minami/Rokuya Nagi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	from here on

**Author's Note:**

> companion to the wind blows, my other nagimina fic.

これからの未来だって  
after all, the future is from here on out  
—sakura message, idolish7

* * *

coming back to japan is easy and difficult. nothing binds him to northmarea anymore—not haruki, not his brother. he is free to live his life and do as he pleases, with little regard for the potential consequences. it should be freeing, but it only makes him more wary, more conscious of the choices he makes.

in the changing seasons, nagi relearns what happiness is.

sometimes it's coming home after work to find tamaki sprawled on the sofa with his pudding plushie while riku watches some variety show or another. it's iori helping mitsuki with dinner, all of them eating together unless they're at work, the kind of noise and bickering that had never existed when nagi was growing up.

it's the goodnight hugs he gives his friends who used to accept them reluctantly, but now return them with sincerity. it’s weekly anime marathons with tamaki, sougo popping in for an episode or two before reminding them it’s getting late. it’s mitsuki making breakfast the night before on days he has early morning shoots, tsumugi’s smile and concerned messages making he sure he's looking after himself.

he still thinks about haruki often, because haruki had been a guiding force in his life. haruki had taught him about letting go then, and now again he is learning that lesson.

the grief is ever present, if tamped down by the comfort of his friends and their care. but grief is proof of love, and nagi is glad he had the chance to love haruki, just as he has the chance now to love idolish7.

despite the cold, the sakura still blooms.

the thing about being hurt deeply by someone you love, nagi reflects, is that it's so easy to recognise the signs of it in others.

he sees it in sougo, despite his smiles and reassurances, the generosity and how he gives and gives. and he thinks sougo sees it in him too, in the same way nagi knows how to see the small signs of fracturing.

he prefers to sit with sougo on the bad days, if they're both around. sougo seems to have an instinct for it too, when nagi needs company but quiet. it's easier to be alone like this, with sougo close but not too close.

it's not that he doesn't appreciate mitsuki and yamato's efforts, but sougo understands better. sometimes they talk a little about it, brief sentences with more things left unsaid than said. other times, they talk about other things. nagi spins exaggerated stories of his modelling jobs, sougo tells him about trying new things with his songwriting.

it's one of these days that sougo asks about minami in passing, wanting to talk to him about music.

it makes nagi curious, because minami is hardly personable or sociable, even if he knows how to act during social events and such. that he and sougo have become friends is perhaps a surprise, but then nagi doesn't keep track of these things, preferring to monopolise his friends time instead.

“what do you think of natsume-shi?” nagi asks. sougo looks thoughtful for a moment.

“i think there's more to him than he cares to share,” sougo says. he reaches into his shelf of cds and pulls out zool's cds, passing them to nagi. “you can hear it in his music, if you really listen.”

nagi studies minami's profile on the cover, how distant and removed he looks. still waters run deep, as the saying goes. but he supposes he's always known that about minami.

“i don't know natsume-shi very well,” he says, half a question, half a statement.

sougo nods at the cds, smiling at nagi. “i'm sure that's somewhere to start,” he says simply. nagi picks one up, the plastic cover cool under his fingers. minami regards him coolly from the album cover, unknown and unknowable.

it's as good a place as any.

nagi has always known music to be too revealing of people and their secrets, if one only cares to pay attention. he learned this from haruki, when haruki had taught him scales and chords, triadic and harmonic. haruki infused something so simple with a strange quality that made it his in a way that nagi could never explain, but he always knew it was haruki the moment he heard the first notes of the piano.

it's different with minami's music. zool's music is hard and fast, the beat strong and heavy. it lacks delicacy in contrast to the way haruki arranges his music, notes seemingly floating. minami's music is a demand to be heard, a confrontation. but if nagi listens, if he really listens, he thinks he can hear it.

he wonders at the shape of these melodies and songs minami makes, pounding across the city and in his veins, layers upon layers to them if someone cared to pay enough attention. the lyrics that resonate in people, demanding if framed one way, yearning if looked at from another.

zool never plays instruments the way yuki sometimes does, and nagi never sees minami at a piano. he sees the way minami's fingers sometimes curl, tapping on the table like he's playing a melody or a chord. a subtle, almost unconscious gesture.

he thinks of minami, straight-backed and seated at a piano in a silent hall after the funeral, fingers curved over the keys like he was going to play before he seemed to deflate, fingers flattening over the keys in an almost regretful touch. the grief in the gesture as minami stood and closed the lid of the piano, the set of his shoulders as he walked away.

that was the only time he ever saw minami play.

in minami he sees something of himself, or who he used to be. haruki would probably have said something like minami was someone who needed to be handled with care, in that he needed to be cared for.

but as minami would be quick to point out—they're not very alike at all, nor does he need anyone to care for him. perhaps the only thing that holds them together is haruki's ghost, but nagi likes to think that minami actually sees him. in spite of all the distance between them, sometimes nagi feels like minami sees him more clearly than his friends do.

it's almost terrifying, he thinks. while nagi laughs and cries and yells and lives with mitsuki and yamato and the rest of idolish7, the rare moments he passes by minami in orbit linger the longest. minami has a way of asking him innocuous questions that leave him grasping for words, for a kind of honesty he doesn't afford anyone.

it throws him out of balance to have someone see him so clearly and be so undemanding of him. minami makes it clear he expects nothing from nagi, that he's happy to leave their relationship at that. friends, after a fashion.

maybe that's exactly why he reaches out.

when it comes down to it, minami is actually a very good colleague. he’s courteous and observant, punctual and professional, always doing as is asked of him. he makes working with him easy, and nagi hasn’t had fun working on a show like this in a long time. it's almost a shame that it's ending.

the idea had initially been something he'd balked at. he and minami were acquainted, and nagi would like to consider them friends, but in all honesty, he didn't know minami well enough to call him a friend. so when tsumugi had presented the offer to him, he’d hesitated before accepting it.

a regular show featuring them travelling japan hadn't seemed like the best idea then, but nagi thinks now it was a blessing in disguise. he's been learning small, insignificant things about minami, the kind of details that people give away unconsciously. minami likes his coffee with lots of milk, but generally prefers to stick to water. cappuccinos not lattes, being warm over cold. he has no tolerance for anything lukewarm, preferring things to be either hot or cold. that after a whole day of shooting, he usually finds somewhere he can be alone to unwind before bed.

that's how he knows to look for minami in the gardens of the ryokan they're staying at, the soft splash of running water and the moon a sliver in the sky. minami has his head tilted back, studying the sky. nagi wonders what he's reading in the stars.

“you make a rather tragic figure like that, natsume-shi.”

“who's to say i'm not one?” minami tugs his jacket closer to him, arms wrapped around himself. the wind is picking up and it's nowhere near as cold as northmarea gets, but the weather is cooling. winter will be here soon and it will be another year passing, marked by growing up and changing, measuring his losses and gains.

nagi wonders which minami is.

“natsume-shi is too beautiful to be a tragedy.”

”but aren't tragedies supposed to be the most beautiful?” minami counters, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. nagi thinks he looks tired, but then they're in a profession that demands so much of them; it's rare they don't look tired once the makeup has been washed off.

“would that make me one? i am after all, _very_ _beautiful_.” that gets a smile out of minami, eyes crinkling even as he turns away so nagi cannot see the smile.

“it's bad manners to brag, rokuya-san,” minami says, expression smoothing out. but there's still amusement in the tilt of his head, in the way he regards nagi.

“i am only stating _facts_!” nagi protests. “am i _not_ _beautiful_ , natsume-shi?”

“no comment,” minami replies. but the corners of his eyes are creased with amusement, and nagi counts this as a win.

“can you read the stars, natsume-shi?” nagi asks.

“maybe.” minami's smile gives nothing away. “fortune telling is a tricky business.”

“did you predict any of this?” nagi asks, curious.

“predict what?”

nagi shrugs. “us being friends. haruki. this show. all these things.”

there is a pause, minami giving him a long look. nagi wonders what he sees, what he's thinking. 

“i don't think anyone could have predicted you,” minami says.

it's a surprising thought, really. but then, nagi supposes he wouldn't have ever guessed that they would be friends, or that minami would be so important to him. in spite of everything, and because of it.

“does that mean it must be fate?” nagi wonders.

“of some kind, perhaps,” the smile returns, small and secretive. nagi thinks this is yet another side to minami he doesn't really know, something he has yet to learn. so many years he's known minami now, and he still barely understands how minami works.

“are you heading to bed yet?” the question is gentle, less a reprimand and more concern.

he wonders if he imagines minami's expression softening a touch. “soon,” minami says. “you should rest soon, as well.”

“i will.” he hesitates a moment, more words on his tongue. but he bites them back, because they don't need to be said now. “good night, natsume-shi.”

“good night, rokuya-san.” minami inclines his head gently, and nagi takes his leave.

they're rerecording songs for their anniversary album, compiling their favourite songs and some of the fan favourites as well. the choices have been interesting and varied, their meetings filled with laughter and reminiscing. idolish7 has come so far, and nagi is so grateful for it.

 _sakura message_ still gives him mixed feelings. there is so much pain and grief wrapped up in it, and yet some part of his heart swells at the opening notes of the song. listening to it reminds him of so many things from then—the desperation, the concessions, the way everything had felt like it was spiralling out of his hands, only to be pulled back by faith and love and recklessness.

he knows how everyone feels about this song, the tenderness that is in both the lyrics and melody. but they also know it's tied deeply to his pain, so none of them have suggested it for the album.

so it's his choice. to remember, to forgive, to send out a message. beautiful music should be shared, and it should bring people joy. and for all the pain and grief, there has been so much joy since.

he sends minami a short clip of it, and minami's response makes him smile and want to cry.

 _the sakura still blooms_.

“do you ever think about what you will do, after?” minami is leaning against the rail of the lookout point, head tilted towards nagi. if nagi squints, he can make out the glimmer that is the roof of zero arena in the distance. they're taking a break for this shoot while the photographer yells and the assistants run around rearranging the set.

“after what?” nagi asks.

minami gestures at the set. “this. idolish7. japan.”

when nagi had come to japan, he'd thought little of how long he would stay. he'd come to fulfill haruki's request to deliver his songs to takanashi otoharu, then indulge the selfish desire of a trip to akihabara. or three, or ten. he hadn't thought of staying long. perhaps a month or two, then he would go back to northmarea. idolish7 had never been part of the plan.

but here he is now still, years down the road. there's been casual talk of graduating, of branching out and being their own people instead of idolish7. the tv networks have asked mitsuki about doing his own show, and he's been busy with lots of voice acting work. sougo wants to focus on his music more, composing and singing. yamato is in high demand as an actor, and more often than not he's on set somewhere, showing up in drama after drama. they all have their own niches, have come into their own.

and nagi? well he's doing decently as a model, billboards everywhere splashed with his face, commercial after commercial. he's never given much thought to the future, to the after, to a time that idolish7 might not exist anymore.

but time is not endless or frozen, and neither are they. it is passing and they are changing, sakura blooming and falling then blooming again.

“i haven't thought about it,” he says honestly. minami raises a pale eyebrow, but he doesn't seem surprised.

“we're graduating,” minami says, turning to look out over the park. nagi hadn't heard; it must have been a recent decision. he wonders how minami feels about it. “we decided yesterday.”

“are you happy?” nagi asks, after a moment. what he means is, _is this the choice you want? is this the pathway to your happiness?_

minami offers him a lopsided smile. “i think we've been around long enough," he says, tucking a loose lock behind his ear. the stylist will have a fit, nagi thinks, especially since it had taken so long to style minami's hair just so. “we weren't meant to last anyway.”

there's something terribly sad about the way minami says it so casually, like this had started with the knowledge that it would end, that there was an expiration date regardless of their success.

“what will you do then?”

minami shrugs. “keep writing songs. maybe go back to northmarea. there’s still the acting jobs if i want. i'm sure i'll keep myself busy somehow.”

somewhere, somehow, nagi had forgotten that northmarea was an option. that minami had lived there once and left some part of himself there, that maybe he would go back there to collect it and then build something else.

“sounds like you thought about this already,” nagi says.

minami smiles, stretching his arms in front of him. “this wasn’t meant to be forever, rokuya-san. i’m surprised we managed as long as we did, if i’m honest.”

“isn't it sad to end like this?” nagi asks, genuinely curious. he asks because zool seems to have established themselves well enough now that they could keep going if they wanted to. but then, what would he know of the reasons behind their decisions?

one of the assistants is waving at them, signalling their break ending. minami straightens up, and nagi feels like the distance between them has increased suddenly. “it's not so bad,” minami says, “all things have to end, but i'm glad to have had this.” he turns and starts walking back to the set. nagi watches him go, bending his head in apology as the stylist clicks his tongue and fusses over minami's hair.

briefly, nagi wonders if _this_ had meant him as well.

“i think it was a kind of miracle i got to meet you, natsume-shi,” nagi declares, slumped on the bar at one of the many afterparties that blur into one another.

he's at least somewhat tipsy, and minami looks as unruffled as he always does. nagi's fairly sure he's drunk though, even if it doesn't show. or if minami actually isn't, he should be.

“you’re drunk, rokuya-san.” 

“maybe i am, but that doesn’t mean i don't mean it.” nagi wonders how he must look right now, head cushioned on his arms, looking up at minami. maybe he really is drunk, because minami looks prettier from this angle, and he’s smiling at nagi.

“you're not going to remember this in the morning,” minami says. but his fingers are cool against nagi's forehead, brushing away his fringe. nagi thinks it's nice. “drink this,” he says, pushing a glass forward.

the water is cold and a shock to his system. nagi makes a noise of protest but he finishes the glass, slumping back down on the bar. minami's hand is cool against his cheek and nagi closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. minami is a lot kinder than he gives himself credit for, or maybe because his kindnesses are so rare and reserved only for specific people.

that minami is kind to _him_ is the kind of knowledge that aches terribly. he cracks open an eyelid and catches minami's hand in his. “thank you, natsume-shi,”

minami looks briefly startled before his expression smooths out to something more neutral. ”whatever for?”

nagi makes a vague gesture with his hand. he's not quite sure what he means, but if he had to put it into words, maybe it would be something like being here and now. it's a sentiment he rarely voices, because somehow sounds terribly like the farewell he never gave haruki. “for being a miracle,” he says, because it's easier than trying to find a better way to say it.

“what would be a miracle is if you would sober up enough so i don't have to carry you,” minami answers dryly, but there's a smile and nagi knows whatever minami says, he will make sure nagi is somewhere safe for the night.

“i'm not the miracle here,” nagi says, or tries to. but he's mumbling into his elbow, and he can hear minami sighing.

“come on rokuya-san, up you get.” minami is brisk, tugging on his arm. nagi groans, but minami doesn’t leave him much choice, so he gets up. minami keeps him upright somehow, but then minami is much stronger and steelier than he appears most of the time.

somehow they make it outside, and the cold air helps nagi sober up a little. he’s still leaning on minami, who is warm and currently the reason nagi is still upright, even if unsteadily.

“ne, natsume-shi, tell me my fortune,” he says. he probably shouldn't lean on minami so heavily, he thinks. but it's also hard to get his body to move the way he wants, so he gives up the effort.

“what brought this about?”

nagi waves his hand in a vague gesture. “because you're good at it!” he exclaims, then he pauses to peer at minami. “aren't you good at that?”

“not the point, rokuya-san.” minami sighs, rolling his eyes. “you're going to marry the ugliest woman on earth, and your career is going to tank and you'll grow ugly and old and fat.”

“ _natsume-shi_ ,” nagi knows he's whining, but there is _no way_ he could be anything but _beautiful_ , even when he's old and fat.

minami is shaking next to him, and it takes a moment for nagi to realise minami is laughing.

“okay, fine. you'll be _beautiful_ and old and fat.” nagi positively _beams_ at that, and minami shakes his head.

their taxi comes and minami bundles him in, getting in next to him. nagi leans his head on minami's shoulder, and minami doesn't shrug him off. he just sighs and adjusts his position until they're both more settled, more comfortable for the long ride home.

streetlights flash past and nagi closes his eyes, the soft hum of the car's engine making him even more sleepy and drowsy.

“ne, natsume-shi.”

“yes?”

“will you be part of my future?”

minami's silence is long, and nagi wonders if minami heard him. but minami sighs softly.

“ask me when you're sober, rokuya-san.”

nagi thinks he must remember to ask minami this again, even as he drifts off.

if he tries to explain his relationship with minami, well. he honestly wouldn't know where to start. most of nagi's relationships can be neatly slotted into one of a few categories: (boy)friends, (ex)girlfriends, work, staff, family.

minami fits in none of these.

nagi likes to think of minami as a friend most of the time, but it doesn't quite feel right. he's too distant but also too close, and nagi doesn't feel the same about minami as he does his other friends. he loves the rest of idolish7 dearly, but he hesitates to put a name to how he feels about minami.

eight languages, and nagi struggles to find the right word for natsume minami.

homecoming is a strange affair. the last time nagi had been here was under duress, and as much as he loves his country and its people, it's also strangely bitter to be here again.

he hasn’t been here in a while, and yet the palace is as it ever is, quiet except for the staff going about their business. the palace gardens are in bloom, early summer encouraging the flowers to unfurl. they're not quite in full bloom yet, but nagi wonders if he will stay long enough to see it.

he thinks about that conversation he'd had with minami all those years ago, just after haruki's death. minami had been right, of course. northmarea is so much a part of him and he'd given it up, but so much of his heart is still here, caught in these halls and in the sky and land, the brisk wind and the flutter of a flag, the cobbled streets that lead him into the city’s main street, the sound of people speaking in northmarean.

how it aches, this love and knowing you don't quite belong here anymore, that it doesn’t belong to you quite so wholly as well.

his feet take him down familiar paths, going back to the place he’d met haruki. the streets are familiar but the storefronts have changed. the bakery is still there but that stationery store has become a florist, that bistro now a grocery. enough time has passed that people don’t recognise him as prince nagi so readily anymore, a fact that makes him both relieved and strangely sad.

as he rounds the corner, it’s a relief to see the cafe still there. the sign is more weathered now, the outside tables rearranged to accommodate the new planter boxes that never used to be there. someone’s at the piano in the cafe, the music trickling out onto the street. it reminds nagi of haruki, reminds him how he used to strain to hear the sound of a piano as he came into the city. if there was music, that meant haruki was there.

but haruki has been gone for years now, so it can't be him. nagi's just glad to hear someone playing the piano, that it isn't lying unused and forgotten.

the cafe is the same as ever, warm and welcoming, the grind of the coffee machine and the smell of coffee beans. he can't see who's playing the piano from the door, but the song sounds familiar, tugging at the edges of his memory.

curiosity draws him near, familiarity stops him short. the music halts abruptly, a sour note hanging in the air.

“what a surprise, rokuya-san.” minami's smile is small, secretive.

nagi breaks into a smile. “natsume-shi. i didn’t expect you to be here.”

minami merely inclines his head, smile still in place. “i suppose it must be fate then.”

looking at him, nagi is inclined to agree.


End file.
